


cause you're the trouble i want

by juniperProse



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: 4+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Banter, Crack-ish, Crush at First Sight, Gyms, M/M, Making Out, autotheft, but again to reiterate: i don’t know a damn thing about crime, but boy do i love italics!, fake name, i don’t know SHIT about crime, yeah i know it’s supposed to be 5+1. fuck off i miscounted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 06:43:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13184520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperProse/pseuds/juniperProse
Summary: “My name’s Goldsworth. Ricky Goldsworth.”“That’s- wow, that’s very obviously a fake name,” Shane says, and maybe talking back to the guy who kidnapped him isn’t the smartest idea he’s ever had, but- listen, how could henotpoint that out?—Or: Four times Shane ran into Ricky Goldsworth entirely on accident, and one time Ricky found him on purpose.





	cause you're the trouble i want

**Author's Note:**

> this is the longest fic i’ve ever written, and it’s. it’s ridiculous. i need to leave right now immediately
> 
> (this fic is loosely inspired by two of my boyfriend and i’s ocs. babe, if you’re reading this, please don’t kick my ass)
> 
> title is from the song troublemaker by grizfolk! hope y’all enjoy!!!!

Shane’s day is going fucking swimmingly.

A (admittedly very attractive) man broke into his car, _while he was still in it_ , and started driving off- again, while Shane was still _fucking in it_ \- and this guy was clearly on the run from something, and Shane was going to be late for work, damn it.

He finds himself on the highway, miles from the gas station he’d been stopped at originally, with a criminal at the wheel of his car and him in the passenger’s seat at his mercy.

“Dude- dude, if you’re gonna kidnap me, can I at least get your name?”

Hot Guy sighs.

“My name’s Goldsworth. Ricky Goldsworth.”

“That’s- wow, that’s very obviously a fake name,” Shane says, and maybe talking back to the guy who kidnapped him isn’t the smartest idea he’s ever had, but- listen, how could he not point that out?

This flusters good ol’ Ricky.

“I- that’s- it’s my _actual_ name! Shut up!” He says, and is it stupid of Shane to think that this guy’s really cute when he’s worked up? ‘Cause he’s kind of thinking that.

_You’re being kidnapped, Shane, now’s not the time to be gay,_ he reminds himself.

“Look, man, I’m just stating the obvious here.”

“Do you want to live or _not_ , dumbass?”

“Ah- it’s debatable,” Shane says, then, because he IS, in fact, a dumbass, “Y’know, you’re kinda cute when you’re flustered.”

“Do- do you talk up every convict you meet?” Ricky spares him a disbelieving glance from where he’s watching the road in front of him. His cheeks might be tinged a little pink, but that could just be Shane’s eyes playing tricks on him.

“Hey, now. It’s not everyday someone steals your car while you’re still in it. I’m just making the most of it, Rick.”

“It’s- it’s _Ricky_.”

“Sure it is, Richie.” _Shane. Shane, you fucking moron._

“Shut the fuck up, or I’ll crash this car right now.”

Shane may have a deathwish, but not _that_ much of a deathwish. He would much rather die fighting a bear, or something, rather than by a hot guy forcibly crashing his own car. So, he shuts up.

Ricky lets him out at a rest stop too-many miles down the road, and Shane might still be a dumbass, because he later lies to the police and says he doesn’t know what Ricky looked like, or what his name was. He’d hate to see such a pretty face behind bars.

He was short a car and very, very late to work now, but you know. Details.

—

The next time he meets Ricky, he’s walking home in an alleyway, on his way back from a night of drinking with friends, when suddenly he’s being slammed against a wall by a hooded figure, a knife held to his stomach.

“Give me your wallet,” a familiar voice says, and he looks down to see a face- partially obscured by the shadows, but with stupidly pretty dark eyes, and, _oh wow, hi again._

“Oh, hi. We can’t keep meeting like this, Richard,” Shane says, and yeah, he’s a little drunk, sue him.

“It’s- oh _shit_ , it’s _you!_ Motherfucker,” Ricky says, letting go of his hold on Shane. “God damn it.”

“Heyyy,” and, okay, maybe Shane's more than a _little_ drunk.

“Why do you- fucking- God, kill me.”

“How’s my car doin’, by the way?”

“It’s- at a safe place.”

“Can I have it back?”

“No,” Ricky sighs. “Not yet.”

“Theeen, can I have your number?” Shane waggles his eyebrows. Yeah, fuck it, he was _partially_ sure Ricky wouldn’t actually kill him. Partially.

“What- I- huh? Sure, after I give you your car, maybe, then we’ll talk.” Ricky’s tone made it sound like he wasn’t actually gonna give him his car back. Rude.

“Wow, thanks. Oh, and I’m drunk,” Shane says abruptly, as if he’s just now realizing it himself.

“ _No_ , you don’t say? I didn’t notice,” Ricky says, sarcasm dripping from his every word.

Annoyance is a really good look on this guy. Hot damn.

“You’re something else, man,” Ricky sighs. “What’s your name?”

“Madej. Shane Madej,” he replies, mocking Goldsworth’s first introduction to him.

“Okay, Shane Madej. Let’s get you home.”

“I can walk there on my own,” Shane says half-heartedly. He wouldn’t mind the company, actually, but he feels like he should put up a fight.

“Clearly not- you almost got mugged.”

“Mugged by _you_ , yeah,” he mutters.

“And I have a knife, so.”

“So?”

“So I can stab anyone who tries any shit.” Shane barks a laugh out at that. “That includes you.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

Ricky sputters. “You- shut up.”

“No, it’s cool, I’m not into that kinda stuff anyways. In case you cared to know. For future reference.” Drunk-Shane needs to learn how to shut the fuck up, Shane thinks distantly.

“I- I didn’t- I’m not-“

“Mmhm. Let’s go home, Rico.”

“Ricky, it’s _Ricky_.”

—

Shane, thank God, isn’t drunk the next time he sees Ricky. He’s at a party, and he’s the designated driver for a group of his friends. Although, he has to borrow Keith’s car, thanks to _someone_ stealing his. Not naming any names.

Speaking of car-stealing assholes, he catches a glimpse of an all-too-familiar clean dark haircut across the crowd. Was that-? Oh, great.

Ricky’s holding a red solo cup, as are most at this party, but he clearly hasn’t drank out of it. He’s wearing a jean jacket- funnily enough, so is Shane- and is clearly trying very hard to blend in. He _would_ be blending if it were anyone else but Shane staring at him, to be fair.

The neon lights make him look even _more_ unfairly handsome, Shane thinks as he makes his way towards Ricky, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Well, if it isn’t Richard Goldsworth!” Shane says, sneaking a hand around his shoulder like they were old pals. “What’s a handsome fellow like you doing in a place like this?”

Ricky honestly jumps a little when Shane touches him. “Oh- oh, it’s just you.”

“ _Just_ me? The nerve.”

“To answer your question, I _was_ gonna pick some drunk strangers’ pockets- but now I suppose I’ll have to find some other party to sneak into, since you’re here,” Ricky says.

Shane snorts. “Why not go sneak into a real fancy party, huh? Steal from some rich old white people. I’m sure they deserve it more than we do.” Shane tries not to sound too bitter when saying that last part. If Ricky was gonna be a criminal, he should be a criminal with some _morals_ , goodness gracious.

“I’d need a fancy fake date to do that, obviously,” Ricky replies smoothly. “A partner-in-crime, if you will.”

“What are you saying, Goldsworth? You flirting with me?”

“And what if I am? You’ve been doing exactly that this entire time, so I think that gives me permission to.”

“If you _are_ flirting, then maybe we should move elsewhere,” Shane says, arm still around Ricky’s shoulder, gently leading him towards the stairwell, next to the back exit.

Shane is just _full_ of dumb ideas. Ricky could easily shank him back here, back where no one could see it happen. But…

Something tells him he won’t.

Ricky just smirks at him once they get back there, hidden from prying eyes. “Are we doing this, Shane Madej?”

Shane answers by pushing Ricky against the wall and kissing him.

And oh boy, Ricky is really good at kissing.

Shane has him pinned hard against the wall, as if Ricky  _isn’t_ able to kill him at any given moment, and instead is weak and yearning and _needy_ \- almost downright _submissive_ \- to him. The smack of their lips together should’ve maybe been awkward, but it just sounds perfect instead, echoing through the stairwell. Everything about this is too hot and too much and a little frenzied.

Ricky tastes like maybe he _had_ actually drank some cheap beer from that red solo cup. (Speaking of which, Shane was pretty sure that cup had been dropped and spilled somewhere along the way here. Whoops.)

Shane puts his leg between Ricky’s, deliberately rubbing at his crotch through his jeans, and Ricky pulls back abruptly, panting, his eyes wide and dark.

“You know what- coming here was a bad idea. I should go,” Ricky says suddenly.

“You sure? The night’s still young.” Shane tries not to sound desperate, but is probably failing at it.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Maybe I’ll go rob some rich white assholes, who knows. The night's still young,” he echoes.

“Hmm, okay, if you say so. See you around, Raphael.”

“Dude- that one wasn’t even _close_ ,” but Ricky grins at him anyways, slipping through the back door of the building.

It took Shane until the following morning to realize that he was missing twenty-two dollars and a Starbucks gift card from his wallet- which meant Ricky picked his pockets while they were making out, that son of a bitch.

Shane couldn’t find it in himself to be mad, though.

—

Shane hates coming to the gym- but he should start coming here more often, apparently.

Because, who else but Ricky fucking Goldsworth would be sitting at the bench press, all built and sweaty and looking like like a bronzed god?

“Oh, _hell-o_ there, Mr. Goldsworth,” Shane says, sitting down at the bench across from Ricky, because, fuck it, what could go wrong?

_Everything_. Everything could go wrong. This entire situation is like a timebomb. But, whatever, he’s resigned himself to this. To flirting with death himself.

Death looks pretty hot in a tank top, Shane thinks. It shows off his arms really well.

“I- holy shit, are you serious right now?” Ricky says, stopping what he was doing, and sitting up. He turns to Shane, sweat glistening his brow. Oh, damn.

“Fancy seeing you here.” This was so, so stupid of him.

“God damn. I can’t get you off my tail,” he sighs, but he’s smiling. “You’re gonna be the death of me, I hope you know this, Shane.”

Shane tries to ignore how Ricky saying his name makes his heart flutter a little. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really!”

“Explain.”

“You- you’re just- what _are_ you?” Ricky starts. “I keep running into you, and you’re infuriating, but-“  
he trails off.

“But?”

“But you… you know what, nevermind,” he mumbles, face going a little red, and not from working out. Flustered. Lovely. “I was just heading out, anyways. Good seeing you, I guess?” He stands up and shuffles his things together in a hurry.

“Ah, yeah,” Shane says, trying not to sound too disappointed. Flirting with and _crushing on_ a damn criminal- what was wrong with him?

“Hate to see him leave, love to watch him go,” Shane says, just as Ricky turns away from him.

“Shut _up_ , Shane Madej,” Ricky says, blushing a little and laughing. That noise was fucking beautiful, holy _shit_ , Shane wants to bottle up his laugh up and keep it forever.

“ _You_ shut up, Richard!” Shane half-yells as he walks away.

“You’re a dick!” Ricky calls from over his shoulder.

They act like old friends- they just _click_ \- and wow, Shane is positively charmed by that crime-boy who he’s met three, now four times, in his entire life.

He didn’t believe in fate, but seeing Ricky more than just once is as close to it as he thinks he’s ever gotten. A grand coincidence.

Hoo boy, okay. Time to work out and not think about the implications of this.

—

Of all the things he expected to happen on this Sunday morning, his criminal-acquaintance/crush/object-of-his-desires knocking on his door while Shane was still half-asleep was _not_ one of them.

“Hi,” says Ricky, standing outside his doorway and looking far too cute and nervous for an actual honest-to-God thief. “Oh, I like your glasses.”

Shane blinks, pushing them further up his nose. He tries not to be self conscious of his gravity-defying bedhead, his “#1 GRANDPA” mug filled with cheap coffee, and his popcorn-patterned pajama bottoms.

“...Hi, thanks. What are you doing here, exactly?” He’d ask how Ricky knew where he lived, but he had kind of walked him home once.

“I- uh- brought you your car?” Ricky says, now jingling his car keys in front of him.

“Ah. Cool,” Shane says, his brain not yet functioning at full-capacity, clearly. He grabs the keys from Ricky with his own free hand and tries not to think about how their fingers brushed together.

He leans against his door frame in an attempt to look casual. “Took you long enough.”

“Listen,” says Ricky. “I’ve been busy.”

“With what? Pick pocketing?”

“Do- do you really wanna know the answer to that, Shane Madej?”

Shane’s name sounds perfect coming from Ricky’s lips, but, _anyways_. “Busy stealing cars, or with failed muggings, or working on those gains, or…”

“Busy clearing my name, actually. My life of crime is over.”

“Oh,” Shane says. “Huh. Cool. You weren’t that great at it anyways, Ricky, to be fair,” he jokes, and he takes a sip from his mug.

“Ryan.”

“Wha?” Shane says after swallowing his coffee, ever-so-intelligently.

“Ricky Goldsworth isn’t actually my name. It’s Ryan.”

“Ryan, huh?” Shane says, smirking a little. He wants to say something dumb like _that name’s a lot more fitting_ or _ha, I knew it was fake,_ or _your name’s almost as pretty as you are,_ but instead he says something even _dumber._

“Wanna come in and have some coffee, Ryan?”

“To- to your home?”

“ _No,_ to my _other_ shitty apartment. Yes, to my home.”

Ryan grins at that. “Shut up. And, sure,” Ryan says. _Ryan_. A perfect name.

_You know what’d be an even more perfect name? Ryan Madej._

Oh, wow, okay. A very dumb thought. The worst thought he’s ever had, mayhaps.

“Is this a date?” Ryan asks him as they walk to his (embarrassingly messy) kitchen, sitting down on a stool at his counter.

“If you want it to be,” Shane says with a wink.

“Mm, I don’t know if I want our first date to be at your shit apartment, Shane,” and Ryan’s smiling. He has a really gorgeous smile, all white teeth and genuine joy.

“This isn’t our first date. You kidnapped me in my own car, remember?” Shane starts making another pot of coffee- the actually decent stuff, this time, ‘cause he has a guest.

Ryan wheezes. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I _guess_. I also- can I just say- I can’t believe you own _those_ ,” he says, gesturing to Shane’s popcorn pants.

“Uh, ex- _cuse_ you. Popcorn is the best food ever,” Shane says. “Wha, do you want me to take them off? Are you trying to get me to strip for you, Ryan?” He shoots back.

Ryan flushes. He blushes so _easily_ , it was wonderful. “So what if I am, Shane?”

“Well- I’d like to get to know you better first before we fuck, ideally.”

Ryan laughs at that, face even redder now. “Alright, fair, fair.”

“Like- hm, can I ask you a question, Ryan?” Shane loves saying his name, he decides- it just felt _right_ rolling off of his tongue. “I have _many_ questions, actually.”

“Shoot.”

“You gave me my car back, so- can I have your number too, now?”

“Oh God, fuck, I thought you would be too drunk to remember that,” he says with a laugh. “Sure you can.”

Shane smiles, passes him his phone so he can type in his number, and asks, “Why are you quitting being a criminal?”

Ryan pauses in his typing.

“Because of you.”

Shane startles. “What… what do you mean, exactly?”

“Because… you’re…” He sighs, looks him in the eyes before continuing, “like I’ve said before, you’re something else. You’re just… so dumb and reckless and funny and cute, and I kind of feel _something_ between us, you know? And I- I can’t help but want to keep your stupid, handsome face _safe_ , and I can’t exactly do that if I’ve got a bounty on my head.”

Shane is sorta speechless, but he grins lopsidedly despite himself. “That’s pretty noble of you, Ryan.”

“Shut up, Shane. Don’t make me regret this life-changing decision. It’s not _just_ because of you, anyways- this was a long time coming for me.”

“Mhmm. You keep telling yourself that,” Shane teases. “One last question.”

“Yeah?”

“What kind of name is Ricky Goldsworth, and why did you think it was a good idea? Like, at all?”

Ryan wheezes, almost dropping Shane’s phone. “ _Listen-_ “ he starts in that ( _so fucking cute_ ) annoyed tone of his.

“‘Cause I think that Ryan’s a much better name than Ricky,” Shane says.

Ryan blushes and grins at him. _What a dork,_ Shane thinks. _His_ dork.

**Author's Note:**

> this whole fic felt like a fever dream, to be honest. hope y’all enjoyed, leave a comment and a kudos if u want!! that would be swell!!!!! <33
> 
> oh, and u should follow me on tumblr @ryanbergarage!! come talk to me about absolutely fucking absurd AUs like this one!!!!!


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